Broken Wings
by Artistic Suicide
Summary: Sephiroth's story. His relationship with his father and the beings within the Shinra Mansion.
1. Blood

_Author's Notes: I've made some substantial alterations to this piece. I apologise for the long delay in updating it, but I now hope to continue..._

Broken Wings  
- Artistic Suicide

Blood

I waded into this world through my mother's blood; a killer before my newborn eyes could open. This is obviously not a distinction granted solely to me, nor was it of my own will, but it doesn't prevent me from feeling it keenly.

Father pretends that there is no Mother with a desperation of a frightened child taking security under its blankets. I know better. I've watched them outside. The other children, I mean. Mothers take them for walks; buy them ice-creams.

I've never had one.

A mother, of course. I've had an ice-cream, once. Father bought it for me on my fifth birthday. A special treat, he'd called it.

_Tongue cautiously touching the cold, sweetened cream, Father_ _watching me with a guarded expression. I didn't know why. I held out my prize. _

"_Would you like some?" I asked timidly, still trying to make peace with a man who had imprisoned me since birth. I think that I feared him more than the dark. _

"_No, no," he smiled, his left canine slightly yellowed, "this is your special treat. You have it. And later, I will buy you a present."_

"_A present?"_

"_Yes, of course. It's your birthday today. We give people presents on their birthdays to celebrate the fact that they were born. A silly tradition, I know, but sometimes it is better to observe these things. It is, after all, what makes us human."_

_Human, Father?_

_All of this was, however, news to me. We'd never celebrated my birthday before. The first of September had always been a day like any other. Nevertheless, this thought of a present seemed curiously tantalizing. _

"_A present? What is it?" I asked, not yet rid of my childish enthusiasm._

"_Anything you want. You may choose."_

"_Anything?" the idea seemed impossible. _

"_Yes, yes. What would you like?"_

"_Really…anything?"_

"_Yes, Sephiroth. Come, now. What do you want?" _

_I warily raise my head from the vanilla ice-cream to meet his hawk-like gaze. His face was impatient. I knew that he wanted to return to his work. I decided to take a chance. _

"_Could I…could I have my mother back? I want to-"_

_His fist crunched into my nose; the first time that he'd ever struck me. Blood sprayed in a perfect arc as I staggered, staring at the crimson that now stained my "special treat". _

_I dropped the ice-cream to the floor in shock, watching the dark-haired man who repeatedly clenched and unclenched his left fist, imperceptibly panting. His eyes gazed at something over my shoulder. Momentarily distracted, I surreptitiously turned my head and saw the gargantuan table that occupied his study. Father was staring at it too, a look of unfathomable horror on his face. I wanted to examine the table further but stood still, my feet rooted to the ground. _

_Whatever nightmare he had been caught in had now released him; he grabbed my shoulder and struck my face hard enough to make me stumble. My cheek flared with heat. _

_I didn't cry. I've never cried._

_I do believe, however, that in that moment, I wished to murder him._

"I _am your mother, you hear me?" snapped Father. "_I_ brought you into this world! I am your father, your mother, your fucking great uncle! Don't you _ever _ask me for that again! Now clean up this mess and go back to your room!"_

_He sat on the table and watched me mop up the remains of my ice-cream treat. Occasionally he put his hand over his face and a ragged sound escaped his throat, tearing through the silence that I did not dare to break. _

_I never did get my birthday present._

Time passed, even in the purgatory created by the man who called himself my father. I studied from home, of course. Emotionally, I cannot guess at my maturity due to being isolated from my peers. With regard to my education, though, I am light years away from Spot, Dick and Jane. By now I _know _that everyone is supposed to have a mother.

And I want mine.

I did manage to drag a name out of my father: Jenova. Jenova was my mother. Jenova created me. I try the name out aloud. Jenova. It has a nice ring to it. Foreign, but beautiful. I will always prefer "mommy" though. That is a name that's more familiar. I've run it through my mind every time I go to sleep; every time I wake up.

I don't know what she'd do, though. I cannot imagine what her tasks in this haunted household would be. Father won't let me read fiction. I imagine that she'd be there to make the pain stop after the experiments. That she'd be the one to hold Father back when he tried to hit me. Someone has to do it now that Gast is gone.

Gast is...was the final member of my macabre family. Uncle Ghastly, I used to call him when I was little and he'd laugh and tousle my hair. Now he's gone. Father told me that he'd died. I still wish that I knew for sure. I've learned not to trust everything that Father says.

The door opens. Father never knocks. Somehow, no matter how much I learn, no matter how strong I get, his presence has never failed to make my bowels fold in on themselves and my stomach crumple like a paper bag.

Graphic description? You've obviously never met Father. He's an inspiration.

"Sephiroth?" he bites his bottom lip and tries to smile at me. "Will you come down to the lab with me?"

I know that it is not a request. It's a pity though; around about this time, the sun enters through the window of my room and I can feel the warmth of its rays. It is the only time I ever get to feel what the outside world must be like. My father won't let me leave the house or even enter the gardens. Apart from the cherry tree that grows outside my window, I've never seen many natural things.

Father believes natural to be overrated.

We walk down the spiral staircase to the laboratory/study. I can't claim to have ever really enjoyed myself there. There are memories here that I don't want to find out about. The room has an air of an ancient tomb; a prison for the soul. Sunlight streams in through one of the smudged windows, briefly outlining the dust motes that hover in the air.

"I'd like you to lie down on the table, Sephiroth," Father mutters. I obey, eager to get a closer look at it. I allow my head to fall to one side. My hand runs over the rough wood. Turning my head to one side, my nose grazes a section of wood that is of a slightly darker hue compared to the rest of the table.

Father presses the silver needle into my arm. I'm used to this by now. The itch that spreads; the strange popping sensation that I feel...it isn't strange to me. I get shots every day of my life. I've learned to live with that. It is preferable to the alternative.

Today, something is wrong. Father looks worried. He catches my eye and smiles distractedly and explains, a rare occurence.

"This is a rather new experiment. I've tried this before and I'm positive that I've fixed the few minor errors that occurred the last time. The special cells in your blood should make you remarkably adaptable to the DNA that I'm going to introduce to your genetic make-up. Of course," he muttered distractedly, more to himself than to anyone else, "it would have been far easier to inject the DNA into your cells before you were born. But the mother would not have been able to survive long enough to give birth to you."

"Mother? You mean Jenova?" I ask, excitedly. Father gives me a strange, unreadable look.

"Yes, that." The look passes. "Anyway, being _born _with wings would have been too much to hope for at that stage. We must walk before we can fly, I suppose."

He approached me, forcing me to turn over and lie on my stomach. For the first time I notice the dark leather straps that are attached to the wood. Father starts to tie down my arms, his fingers bruising my wrists. I've been trained not to feel fear but my heart rebels against my mind, beating with increasing rapidity. I struggle slightly but I soon feel Father's hand slam against my skull, knocking my mouth into the wood.

For a brief moment, my tongue touches the stained wood and my eyes widen in realization. My superior senses send reams of information to my conscious mind. The taste and smell overwhelm me. Nausea bubbles up through my throat and my chest heaves. I start to scream, thrashing.

The world smacks me in the face when I open my eyes. I wake up in agony. My back is heavily bandaged but it feels stiffer, less flexible. Gulping in the rusty air, my mouth still against the blood that has soaked into the grain of the wood, I realise that I am now also covered with my own bile. I recoil slightly but feel my chest starting to heave painfully.

_Just breathe. Concentrate on breathing._

I block out the putrid smell, and close my eyes before opening them again. The light makes them hurt. The light? Father must have switched on the bright ceiling ones in order to see what he was doing when he performed the experiment. I cannot yet handle the pain so I let my eyelids flicker shut once more. My stiff fingers start to unclench slowly.

"Are you awake, Sephiroth?" the voice pounds into my ears. I rasp. My mouth feels as if it was filled with sand.

I feel myself being gently turned over. A thin, strong hand raises my head slightly and puts a cup of water to my lips. I swallow greedily and choke, coughing up the water.

"Shhh, now. Easy. Drink slowly. There we go." The voice is soft, encouraging. I finish the water and let my head fall back against the hand, exhausted from that menial task. The hand does not move away. This is so comforting. A damp cloth wipes the sweat from my face; my vomit from my hair. The cloth is dropped and the hand is pressed softly against my forehead.

_So cool…_

I feel myself being shifted, raised by those strong arms. The hands do not drop me. I'm slowly carried out of the dungeon and taken to my room. I feel the steady footsteps of the person as we move upstairs.

I allow my eyes to open and peek at this person. My father's face swims into view as he looks ahead, a slight frown creasing his forehead. His face still looks painfully young, perhaps in his thirties; his dark hair tied back, as usual. His golden eyes look brown in the darker light of the evening.

I glance through one of the hall windows and see the moon swimming in the sky: an unreachable jewel. I sluggishly raise my right arm to snatch it but encounter my father's cheek instead. He stiffens but moves on as I withdraw it.

We reach my bedroom and I'm placed on my bed with the sheets wrapped tightly around me. My lips tilt slowly, enjoying the softness of the mattress compared to the hard, blood-stained table.

My father's hand touches my face once more. I love being touched like this; with such care. I've never _ever _been touched like this.

_He has to love me, he _has _to!_

Father bends down and for a split-second I am sure that he is going to kiss me but he just gives me a tight, pained smile, touches my hair with one of those healing hands...leaves my room in silence after opening the window and allowing a fresh, cool breeze to enter. The heady, sweet smell of the cherry tree is intoxicating. The pain in my back lessens and I sleep.

_AN: Well, thus concludes the first bit of this story. Yes, for this one, I actually have a set plot in mind. Hopefully I'll be able to update often enough. I'm working on my other stories too. A huge thanks and muffin to everyone who's been reviewing and reading Pulling Off Butterfly Wings. It really, really helps a lot when I know that I'm not committing artistic suicide._


	2. Wings

Broken Wings  
- Artistic Suicide

Wings

Hojo left the room, his hands trembling. Closing the door, aware of the soft thud, he gripped his chest, unconsciously squeezing his flesh so hard that tears sprang to his already dampened eyes.

_What is this? Why the hell must I love him? How? How can I?_

He clutched harder at his chest, as if to tear out the treacherous organ that allowed him to pity the boy that had lain in a pool of his own bile. But…when he had opened those huge green eyes…the _pain_…

Some malevolent god had sent him those eyes to punish him. Lucrecia's eyes. Lucrecia's soul spoke to him through the boy's strange innocence. He'd done everything he could, short of an exorcism but he could still see his wife; in the greenhouse room, watering the rose bushes that now invaded the space that had been hers; in the large hall, her ivory fingers pressing softly against the keys. The haunting melodies taunted him as he passed, her laughter as harmonious as the songs that the two of them had played together, her chocolate hair brushing the keys.

_Lucrecia laughing;_

_Lucrecia screaming;_

_Lucrecia on white sheets, naked and smiling;_

_Lucrecia on the table, bloodied, tears streaming, a cold smile on his face – _

_OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod_

He had to see the boy one more time, eyes closed without a trace of his natural mother in his features.

The door opened silently enough and his son had been through too much to be bothered by the light squeak of Hojo's rubber shoes on the wood. The pale moonlight shone through the open window onto Sephiroth's face. His haunting eyes were barely shut and his pale eyelids fluttered as the child passed through some dream-world that Hojo would never know, no matter how much he dissected the boy.

Hojo allowed himself to pass his hand over Sephiroth's almost luminescent skin. In a move so sudden that he startled himself, he brushed Sephiroth's lips with his own. Apprehensive, he leapt back, pianist fingers brushing his mouth, watching the boy's own lips curve up into a smile.

_What am I doing to us? I can't do this!_

Watching the boy's innocence, Hojo saw Lucrecia in that small smile and he backed out of the room in weary horror; his breath ragged. He forced his lips into a suitable sneer and walked off, his heart aching.

_I gave up everything for the experiment…for _her. _I can't waste that now. She needs me. _

Even as he walked away, he felt the wetness in his eyes.

Sunlight warmed Sephiroth's face, causing dark lashes to flutter as his eyes opened. He stretched, feeling the muscles in his back pop in protest. The bandage, sweat soaked, clung to his skin and he grimaced at the discomfort of it all. Still, he knew that it would be more than his life's worth to remove the source of his uneasiness.

There was a bucket on the floor of his room, filled with water that was now only lukewarm with a few dying suds. He carefully stripped himself of the remainder of his clothing and meticulously, albeit slowly, washed himself. Dressed once more, he carefully brushed his teeth, knowing that Hojo would check them later on, lest his most precious specimen be damaged.

Hojo was in a foul mood that morning, slamming the boy's protein shake in front of him and then, before Sephiroth could finish, grabbing his arm hard enough to bruise and dragging him down to the lab. Sephiroth felt his young heart tear as he met Hojo's cold eyes. The older man did not even remotely resemble the father that he'd seen through the cloudy haze of pain the previous night. Had it been mere deliria?

In the dark of the laboratory, Hojo turned to the boy.

"Now, I don't want your eyes to be damaged by the light, so you are going to wear a blindfold. Is that understood, Sephiroth?"

Sephiroth nodded, although he was disappointed. He had wanted, out of some morbit curiousity, to see what Hojo had done to his body the previous night.

The bandages were slowly unwrapped, although all of this was not seen by the young boy. It felt good though, to be rid of the sticky, uncomfortable cloth. When the bandages were finally completely removed…_bliss_! He felt his back stretch in ways that it had never done before and heard Hojo's murmured approval as he surveyed his experiment.

"It seems to be working," the scientist said, his mood improved somewhat. "Good. Now, I'm just going to clean your upper torso and then we'll put on some new bandages as the stitches still need to dissolve. You must not do any strenuous exercise for the next three weeks as your muscles need time to adapt to the new changes that have taken place."

Sephiroth nodded again, wishing that he had the nerve to ask what the experiment had been.

_Surely it's my body? Can't I ask? Do I have a right to know what is being done to me? _

Sephiroth felt Hojo pushing what felt like sticks into his spine and he automatically straightened his back to ease the pain. Something warm covered his body and he was once more wrapped in bandages from his waist to just below his collar bone. The blindfold was removed and Hojo was looking down at him with a strange light shining in his eyes...something akin to pride showed on his lean face. He placed a hand on Sephiroth's shoulder.

"The President has called me away for a few days to attend to some business that cannot be postponed. An assistant will be arriving later on today to take care of you. This is most unfortunate, seeing as you still need to recover from the experiment but everything should be fine. I trust you to behave yourself, Sephiroth. I need not tell you what will happen if you do not."

With that, the Professor walked out of the room, leaving Sephiroth to trot after him.

Hojo was gone. It was the first time in Sephiroth's life that he had ever been without his father. Whatever he had done to him, Hojo had never yet left his son - a dubious sign of loyalty. Still, Sephiroth felt a strange sense of freedom, knowing that he had momentarily escaped the clutches of the Professor. He cautiously looked out of his room, unused to just leaving when he felt like it.

Unsure of what he could do, he walked over to the laboratory, running down the spiral steps and into the foul-smelling passage that would lead to his destination. He reached the door and tried it but was not surprised when it turned out to be locked. Hojo would never have left his study open to all and sundry. Sephiroth turned back and walked away, stopping when he saw a door on his right. He had once looked into that room when Hojo was leaving it and seen piles of old coffins. He was interested in exploring that room but knew that it too, would be locked.

Bored, Sephiroth leaned against a grimy wall and looked around once more. His green eyes, faintly luminous in the dark, widened slightly as he saw another handle in the wall opposite the Coffin Room. The wall was so covered with filth that it had blended right into the wall. Interested, he walked up to it and tried the handle, expecting it to be locked. It was stiff and at first he thought that he had been correct in his assumptions but when it budged slightly, he knew that it was merely stiff. He threw his weight against it, ignoring the spasms of pain that raced down his back, and slipped through the crack that appeared in the wall.

The corridor that he entered was dark but he found, after walking for a while, that it was not very long. It did, however, lead to six other rooms. He started when he noticed the low, empty moans that were emanating from the second door on his right.

He cautiously walked up to it and placed a pale hand on the flaking, rotting wood. The two glowing emeralds that shone in the dark narrowed with suspicion. He wondered what manner of creature could be behind the door, and whether it had been his father who had put it there. He did not fear for himself because at his age, he still had the belief, which all young children seem to possess, that he would never die.

He returned to the entrance of the corridor and felt around until he found a protruding switch. Flicking it, he blinked rapidly as white light filled the corridor. He returned to the place where he had heard the groans. There were long hooks next to each door, silver and sharp. Hanging from each hook was a key. Hojo had obviously thought that no one would ever find this room.

Standing on his toes, Sephiroth managed to acquire the desired key. He slipped it into the keyhole and it turned easily. The hollow moans stopped when the creature behind the door heard the click but its harsh breathing was painfully audible. Slowly, Sephiroth opened the door and then stepped in. The room had been dark but light from the corridor filtered in and allowed Sephiroth to see the creature huddling one of the far corners of the room. Its head jerked up when it heard his footsteps. Sephiroth gasped. It was not an animal.

The young girl's face was hidden by a long curtain of dark crimson hair. She hesitantly brushed the red hair away and Sephiroth felt his stomach clench and bile rise in his throat. He suppressed it however, letting only a startled choking sound escape. The girl's eyebrows gathered in the center of her forehead.

"Hojo?" she asked, her voice low and suspicious. Sephiroth shook his head although he knew that it would be of no use. Her eyes had been removed…_ripped_ from their sockets. Her facial skin had been stretched over her skull so viciously that it had been torn in places and then re-stitched. He thought that he could see her skull beneath the thin layer of pale hair. Her outer ears had been brutally cut off.

_Why?_

She was dressed in a dirty white dress that hung down to her calves. Sephiroth heard a high-pitched keening sound escape his throat and forced himself to stop. The girl looked scared as she walked slowly, hands held out to touch him. Sephiroth felt himself stepping back and, ashamed of his actions, forced himself to speak.

"No, no. I'm not Hojo. My name is Sephiroth," he rasped, his tongue feeling like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth. The girl paused and lowered her hands to her sides as she frowned. Her empty sockets seemed to stare at him; analyze him. She brought a hand to his face and Sephiroth stood still as she carefully felt his face. Her touch was cold and he noticed that her nails were horribly torn; her fingers were bloodied. He glanced at the door and saw the scratches that scarred the wood. He turned back to her and noticed the small smile that had appeared on her pale face.

"You're a child, like me!" she exclaimed.

"Yes. I'm Hojo's…son," said Sephiroth and watched her smile disappear. "But he didn't send me here! I'm not like him!" he hastily exclaimed. She nodded slowly.

"I'm Gabrielle," she said, frowning once more and then unfurled her wings. Sephiroth gasped, but this time it was with amazement. He had, understandably, not noticed the wings that had been carefully wrapped around her thin body but now, he did not know how he could not have. Brilliantly white and almost as big as Gabrielle, they made her seem like an angel. A small, lonely, injured, mutated angel. She smiled at his amazement.

"Can you…can you fly with those?" asked Sephiroth. Gabrielle looked confused.

"I don't know. I've never been able to try. I don't think that I can though. I'm too heavy. I'm six."

"I'm a year older that you," answered Sephiroth, forcing himself to look at her thin, eager, hideous face, hoping that he would be able to get used to it. "How long have you been here? Have you always been…like this…with the wings, I mean."

"I…don't think so. I'm sure I had parents once. I can remember…things. Like singing and the sky and food."

"You don't eat?" asked Sephiroth, startled. Gabrielle shook her head and her red hair covered one of her eyeless sockets to Sephiroth's relief.

"No. I don't need to. Hojo said that he'd make me an angel. And angels don't eat. I don't know what he did to me but I know that I no longer have a stomach-" To Sephiroth's horror, the girl pressed her stomach and he watched her hand disappear and it pushed further and further into the empty hollow where her stomach and intestines should have been. She gave him a conspiratorial grin. "I don't need to go to the potty either."

To his amazement, Sephiroth felt himself laugh and Gabrielle giggled too. A tear escaped each of the young boy's eyes as he stared at her.

_What has Father done?_

"Why…why did he take away your eyes?" the boy whispered. Gabrielle frowned.

"He said it was because I was a naughty girl but when he tore them out I heard him whisper that I wasn't allowed to have Lucrecia's eyes. He said that I was a bad girl to have them and that I'm not allowed to ever see with them until he says so," Gabrielle started to whimper. She brightened up though. "He says though, that if I'm a good girl, he'll give them back to me. I have them in a jar."

"Where are they," asked Sephiroth, before he could stop himself. Gabrielle walked to her corner of the room where a bunch of dirtied blankets lay. She dug through them and brought a glass jar up to Sephiroth. He had stop another startled sob from emerging. The jar was filled with water and at the bottom lay two rocks.

_Father…you monster…_

Gabrielle put the jars away and Sephiroth walked up to her and hugged her. She stiffened but her frail arms wound around his neck and allowed him to offer the small comfort that he could. Eventually he let go of her and smiled sheepishly although he knew that she would never be able to see him.

"Why were you moaning?" he asked. She bit her lip. He saw that it was already raw and bloody.

"I wanted to feel the sun," she whispered. "It's so cold here. I've never left this room."

"I could help you to do that, if you promise to leave when I say so," said Sephiroth, knowing that there was still time before the assistant would arrive. It was only midmorning and the assistant was due to arrive at about four in the afternoon. Gabrielle nodded eagerly and Sephiroth carefully helped her exit her cell.

They walked swiftly through the dank corridors and up the staircase. Sephiroth came to the door that led to the outside world but found it locked. A little disappointed, he led Gabrielle to his room, where the sun shone warmly on the wooden floors. She laughed with delight and the two children lay down on the floor to warm themselves. Sephiroth took hold of Gabrielle's hand and the couple lay in silence; Sephiroth looking at the girl next to him with a mixed blend of affection, pity and anger. Anger towards his father who had committed such atrocities towards a little girl. He knew that people were _not _supposed to do such things.

Gabrielle just enjoyed the sun.

By the time the assistant arrived, Gabrielle had returned to her cold cell.

"_You'll come back?" she asked, apprehension evident in her voice. _

"_It will be difficult but I promise that I'll come back whenever I can," Sephiroth replied. She looked blindly at him. _

"_I know I'm ugly," she said, her voice faltering, "but you don't hate me. You're special, Sephiroth."_

"_You aren't that bad," lied Sephiroth, his heart breaking for her. She shook her head. _

"_You don't have to be nice," she replied and hugged him again. _

The assistant, a young woman called Gertrude, looked at him carefully.

"Hojo told me that you'd just been through a dangerous operation and must remain in your room at all times," she told him. She was pretty, with pale blonde hair and blue eyes that hid behind glasses with silver rims. Her mouth had a cruel turn to it but he thought that on the whole she seemed nice.

"Yes. I'd like to be able to walk around to exercise a bit," he told her, trying to make his voice seem mature and experienced. She nodded.

"That seems reasonable," she told him and then instructed him to go to his room. "I'll bring your supper up in a few hours."

Sephiroth nodded, thinking of Gabrielle, who could not eat at all.

That night, as Sephiroth went to sleep, he imaged that he could hear a female voice laughing softly in the room.

_AN: Hope that this chapter was okay. Oh, and for the record, FFVII does not belong to me for now and forever, Amen. _


	3. Flight

Broken Wings

- Artistic Suicide

Flight

The office was large and consequently made most that entered feel significantly reduced in size. Hojo's ego prevented him from being intimidated by his spacious surroundings, however, and he stood in front of President Shinra's desk, indifferently looking at the man before him.

President Shinra was still relatively young, although his weight appeared to be in direct proportion to his new wealth. The man was a glutton for success, Hojo mused, and it showed. His red velvet suit gave him the appearance of an enormous cherry but the blue eyes that bore into his inferiors detracted from his otherwise humerous features.

The company, initially a weapons manufacturing business, had rocketed in recent years. The city had grown fat and corrupt with the man who had led the company. Hojo wondered at times, whether the citizens truly thought that they were better off. The new Mako technology's replacement of fossil fuels had most certainly caused much change in the way people lived their lives. Whether that change could be called progress...

"I understand that your experiment was successful, Hojo," drawled Shinra, "although why you had to give the specimen wings..."

"It was a preliminary experiment, Mr. President. I have hopes of introducing the DNA of various other creatures to future SOLDIERS, if possible. The boy was a perfectly strong specimen and perfect for the initial experiments. As soon as I am certain that there are no adverse effects, we can start looking at creating some form of neo-SOLDIER."

"Your own son, Hojo," mused Shinra, staring at the scientist before him. "I wonder at your apathy at times."

"I give of my best to the company," answered Hojo, dryly. "Which reminds me, how fares young Rufus?"

"As well as can be expected, with his mother's recent demise," answered the President with narrowed eyes. "Very well, Hojo. Continue with your experiments but don't damage the boy. As you told me at the onset of this project, we can expect great things from the specimen when he is older."

"Very well, Sir. May I inquire as to whether the Turks have discovered Gast's location? It has been two years."

"Yes, we believe him to be in Icicle Lodge, near the Northern Crater. The woman is with him and I believe they have a child, barely a week old. I'm going to send SOLDIERs after them as soon as possible."

Hojo nodded, satisfied. He had been disgusted with Gast's sudden decision to leave. The man had grown a conscience and just walked out on the greatest project of their lives. Death was too good for some.

"I would be grateful if you would notify me when you have aquired the woman and child," the scientist said. "The woman, especially, might be useful."

It was Shinra's turn to nod. He frowned into Hojo's yellow eyes and felt an unbidden repulsion for the man. There were bad men and there were men who were not...human. Hojo's willingness to lose his wife and dedicate his unborn child to science were decisions that even the President did not think he could have made. Through his disgust, however, he was aware of an odd sort of satisfaction. Even rats occasionally need to look down on something.

She was exquisite...a Goddess from some distant galaxy of which he had no knowledge. Hair like starlight; helpless and yet so invincible.

"My love," he groaned against the glass, his cheek caressing the cold surface that separated her from his touch. His fingers grazed the barrier parallel from her cheek. It was overpowering, this passion.

She had never said a word to him, except through his discoveries of her genetical properties and he communicated his love to her in that way, showing her his devotion through science.

He loathed Gast for being the one to discover her but knew that the former head scientist was no threat to him in terms of worthiness. Why, the fool probably still thought her to be a Cetra. Hojo had kept his knowledge of the Goddess separate from Gast, jealous of his possession of her.

He thrilled to think, however, that Jenova was his through his son, Sephiroth. He had not hesitated to donate his unborn child to her cause, his wife, Lucrecia agreeing as quickly. And how quickly events had moved since that discovery. Jenova's cells had strengthened Sephiroth whilst in his mother's womb, although Gast had noticed Lucrecia withering rapidly. He had pointed this out to Hojo, but the scientist was to enraptured with his new love.

"I gave her up for you," he sighed against Jenova's prison, arching his body against it. "I give him up for you. Please understand this."

"...Ninety-nine...one hundred!" called Sephiroth. His green eyes narrowed in the darkness of the laboratory as he stalked his prey.

It was really too easy. He could feel her heat behind the bookshelve. Her breathing filled his sense...even her hearbeat echoed faintly in the silence. He did not find her immediately, though. He deliberately looked behind gurneys and chairs, building the suspense.

"Got ya!" he yelled triumphantly, snatching at her wrist. She eluded him, however, and skipped behind a chair, knocking it over before he could pounce at her, holding her down. She did not seem upset.

"Now you have to kiss me," she demanded, smiling blindly at him.

He was grateful that she could not see his expression.

"Why?" he asked.

"It's in the rules. I remember that," she answered, shrugging.

He leaned down towards her, his breath fluttering against her skin, but drew back. He could not help himself. Physical contact was tolerable but he couldn't bring himself to let his lips touch her grotesque face. His eyes stung. He imagined that hers might have as well, had his father not stolen her eyes.

"You might have cooties," he whined, hoping that he did a suitable impression of a normal boy. He could sense, however, in the way that she recoiled from him, that she was not fooled.

"You don't have to kiss me," she muttered and drew away.

"Listen, I think I have to go, anyway," he mumbled, offering a hand to help her up. She ignored it, because she couldn't sense it or because she was hurt, he couldn't tell. The two of them walked in silence towards her cell.

"I'll see you again soon, right?" he asked, knowing that she had no way of answering. She looked away.

"Fine."

"Goodbye."

She didn't reply and he locked her away again. Initially he had been surprised that she was so willing to allow him to imprison her.

_"Why do you let me?" he asked her, once, as she walked back into her small room. He noticed that she always returned to the deepest corners, where the shadows hid her mutilated face._

_"You'll get in trouble if I don't," she replied. _

_"I could maybe run away with you, someday," he mused, imagining the smell of the cherry tree outside his window. Perhaps the whole world smelt like that, outside this hell that his father imposed upon him. _

_She didn't answer, but continued to stare emptily at him. He noticed that her thin, scabbed lips trembled. _

_"Gabby?"_

_"I'm so _ugly_!" she hissed suddenly, vicious in her despair. "Do you think that I could ever leave this horrible place? People would kill me..."_

_"I'd protect you," he stated, bravely and ignorantly. "I wouldn't let them touch you! I'm strong and you're not ugly...we're friends, Gabs, right?"_

_"Right..." she whispered hesitantly. _

Sephiroth continued walking, his heart pounding uneasily.

_We're friends, right?_

It didn't matter anymore. He turned back, racing to unlock her cell. She was leaning against the door and fell against him as he wrenched it open.

"What do you wa-" she started to say, her face sulky, before he dashed his lips against her own, quickly and roughly, being sure to keep his tongue firmly in his mouth. He knew what open-mouthed kissing was and he wanted no part of it.

Sephiroth pulled away, licking his lips uncomfortably. They tasted of blood and he noticed that his kiss had rubbed some of the broken crust from her mouth. He started to apologise, nervously, before she leaned forward to peck him on the cheek. Unable to see, she hit his nose and he gasped in shock whilst she began her apologies too.

He didn't know who laughed first but soon they were suppressing shrieks of mirth, lest they be heard.

"I have to go now," he whispered and she nodded.

He didn't hear her, as he locked the door again, whispering "Thank you".

Hojo gazed at his son. The boy certainly looked healthy. Gertrude had left an hour ago, saying that there had been no trouble with Sephiroth. He had spend some time reading through her reports and then called his son to his laboratory.

"Has there been any pain?" he asked. Sephiroth shook his head. "It has been two weeks now. I think that the stitches have probably dissolved," he mused. He motioned for the boy to come nearer and proceeded to remove the bandages.

Sephiroth tensed with apprehension, not knowing what to expect. Again, there was that blissful sensation of release and he look in shock at the appendages that extended from his back.

Two white wings, matted with dried brown blood, twitched behind him.

"You gave me wings?" he whispered, not daring to believe that his father could done something so..._beautiful _to him.

"It's purely aesthetic for now," Hojo replied. "I suspect that you're too heavy for them to carry you, but I'm hoping to later infuse them with magical properties, allowing you to use them as a shield and crude flight device."

Sephiroth nodded mutely. It was his eighth birthday. Ice-cream became irrelevant.

"Are you happy?" asked Hojo, cringing, not knowing why he suddenly cared.

"Father..." Sephiroth croaked, and the older man understood him.

Blood burst from his mouth in a choking bubble. Gast knew that he was going to die. Ifalna's screams tortured him but they were fading due to distance.

His beautiful daughter...Aeris...

He was grateful to have held her, known her briefly, but knowing her fate, he could not help but wish that she had never been born.

He wondered if Hojo ever felt the same way about his own son.

He had loved Sephiroth dearly, although the green eyes of the mother had haunted him through the son. Hojo hadn't _killed _Lucrecia...he hadn't saved her either. Gast had stood by through Valentine's disappearance, through Lucrecia's death...it was for a _worthy cause_. What did the suffering of a few matter, if they could return humans to their Cetra origins?

Ifalna had dashed those dreams. Telling him about Jenova's history, he had looked at Sephiroth in a new light.

_We have created a monster..._

He had run away with the lovely Cetra who had willingly offered her help...and created an angel.

_Gods save them_

"Sephiroth, I will be leaving again for a day or two," Hojo told his son. The boy stared at him in confusion. Leaving? Again?

Delighted with his success, Hojo had been almost mild with Sephiroth in the last few days. Giving him time to recover from the experiment, he had allowed the boy more time to rest and giving him a wider range of books to read for relaxation.

"I have work to attend to at the company. Gertrude will be coming again. As usual, you will behave as I desire."

"Yes, Father."

Immediately after Hojo left, Sephiroth hurried to Gabrielle. She smiled up at him.

"I didn't think you'd be able to come back so soon," she laughed. He took her hand and pressed it against his new wings. Her eyes widened in amazement.

"He's making you an angel too?" she asked in wonder. He shrugged and then answered non-committedly.

"Gabrielle, do you remember much of your life? Did you have parents?"

"Angels don't have - "

"Don't give me his propoganda," interrupted Sephiroth. "Do you remember them?"

"No," she whispered. "Don't talk about it. It scares me."

Sephiroth sighed and gave up on his questions. He wondered how Hojo had aquired the girl but supposed that it had involved guns and killings. With his father, somehow that was never an unlikely possibility.

Hojo gripped the woman's chin, pinching her flesh and leaving a red weal.

"You have her eyes, too," he whispered, breathing harshly into her face. "I should remove them..."

"You're sick," Ifalna spat. She was still strapped to a gurney, weak after having a physical analysis done. She had lost so much blood...

_...Gast lost so much more..._

"No? Maybe _hers _then..." Hojo moved towards the hospital cot that held Aeris. He swooped her into his arms, cradling the child in front of the mother. Ifalna remained silent, her eyes burning.

"You know...you could just be helpful," Hojo suggested.

"I'd rather die."

"What about your little daughter? Surely you'd cooperate for her sake?" Hojo frowned. He sounded like a fairy tale villian...but certain methods worked.

"You wouldn't dare harm her, Hojo," hissed Ifalna. "A precious specimen like that?"

_The planet is worth even your death, my dear one..._

"If it would assure your assistance, I might be willing to lose a half-breed like this," he drawled. "You forget what I've done to my own son. Don't believe that this specimen means anything to me. It's _you_, Ifalna, that I need...and I would never hurt you."

"Jenova is dangerous, Hojo!" snapped Ifalna. "You can't contain her!"

Hojo stared at the pretty woman. She was so like Lucrecia, although she possessed a fire that his former wife had never had. It lit her eyes, giving them a contemptuous light.

"She loves me, Ifalna," he crooned. "She loves me because I gave up everything for her. She will reward me, when the time is right."

"Gertude's asleep," Sephiroth whispered into the darkness.

"So was I," Gabrielle replied, but her smile softened her words.

The two of them walked through the laboratory. When they came to the stairs, Gabrielle shot a look at her companion, who nodded and ascended them with her. The house was silent, Gertrude having retired an hour before. Gabrielle was pale in the dark; a broken doll haunting the shadows.

They tiptoed into Gertrude's room, Gabrielle with a hand clasped over her mouth. The older woman was asleep, a bottle of pills next to her bed. Sephiroth reached forward until his hands hovered over her throat.

"Want to bet that I could kill her?" he asked. Gabrielle shook her head, mutely. "One twist and..."

"Stop it, Seph. You're scaring me," Gabrielle whispered. "Let's go somewhere else. I'm cold..."

The two miscreants tiptoed into Sephiroth's room, the boy throwing his blanket around the girl, her wings already pressed against her back for warmth. The moon lit up the room; the shadows of the tree outside painting cages across the floor and walls. Sephiroth didn't care. They were no more tangible than the bars that Hojo had erected throughout the eight years of his life.

"What will you do when we escape?" asked Gabrielle.

"I'm going to leave this town...find a new place to live with lots of trees...maybe a lake. I want to find my mother and Professor Gast. What'll you do?"

"I don't know..."

"We can find you a pretty home, if you like."

"You are my home, Sephiroth," whispered Gabrielle softly. The boy had no time to be startled; Gabrielle hugged him softly, shaking.

"Don't cry, Gabs," he murmured. "We'll be fine..."

The sunlight tickled Sephiroth awake, warm again his face. His eyes were still sealed with sleep and he wondered absently what time it was.

A strand of his hair lay across his face, tickling his nostrils. He wrinkled his nose...rolled over into Gabrielle's sleeping form. Terror flooded his veins like iced water. He snatched at her shoulder.

"Gabrielle! Wake up, we - " horror stopped his voice. His father stood above their bed, his face pale with disbelieving fury. Sephiroth recoiled, too afraid to even berate himself for falling asleep.

Hojo's angry eyes blazed golden in the light of the day. Gabrielle stirred.

"You _what_?" the scientist hissed, snatching at her red hair. The girl screamed her throat raw.

Sephiroth acted without thought. His young hands, strengthened by Jenova's cells, wrenched Hojo's hands away; pushed his father back. Hojo fell against the door; hastily slammed it shut and covered it with his body.

"Fly, Gabrielle!"

The girl looked confused; stupid with terror. Sephiroth grabbed her, steered her towards the window.

"I can't!"

"_Try_!"

Sephiroth lunged himself at Hojo once more, allowing Gabrielle to climb up to the windowsill. He hurried to join her; did not hesitate to jump, not seeing Hojo snatch Gabrielle as she paused in her fear.

_Like flying..._

His wings strained, a sumptuous pleasure as he flew, fell through nothingness. It was on the second story and he had never felt so unafraid...

Wooden hands halted his flight and Sephiroth screamed in pain as the tree branches tore through his wings. His left side burned as that wing caught in a branch for a moment of excruciating eternity...

_I wish I were an angel_

Like one...

He fell.

Gabrielle was dragged screaming down the stair by her hair; Hojo screaming abuse at her. Daylight was merciless, revealing every obscene action he had done. She was a monster.

Sephiroth was lying on the grass below his window and Gabrielle cried in frustration; unable to see her best friend. Hojo, however, clutched at his throat with his remaining hand.

The _blood_...

One wing was twisted at an impossible angle, half ripped from his back. The boy was unconscious, pale, deathly.

The scientist lifted him awkwardly with his free arm; dragged the children back into the mansion. Gertrude stood there, awoken by the screams.

"Take the boy to the laboratory," snapped Hojo. She did not hesitate to comply.

Hojo threw Gabrielle back into her cell, slapping her as hard as he could manage in his fury.

"You will never see him again. I will let you live...let you wither down here," he hissed, but staring into her frightened, abused face, he knew that he could make no further threats.

He hurried to the laboratory, knowing already what he would have to do. He spat at Gertude.

"Get out!" he snarled.

Eight hours later he looked down at his work. His arms were drenched with his son's blood. The lost appendage lay to one side. He choked back a sob of frustration and...something...else.

Sephiroth, his son...

...the One-Winged Angel.

_Author's Notes: There...chapter three. I pray that it was worth the wait. I apologise if there isn't a decent break in between sections - can't seem to do that. I've been finishing school, hopefully now I can concentrate on doing this properly. Please review, I can't force you (heh heh) but I cannot stress how endlessly encouraging constructive criticism is. Until chapter four..._


	4. Tears

Broken Wings

- Artistic Suicide

Tears

_Lucrecia…I've broken your child…and such a pretty doll he was too…_

_Such a pretty woman you were too…_

…_so pretty…_

Hojo stumbled through the darkened corridors of the mansion, his head clutched tightly in his hands to keep it from falling from his shoulders. When not in _her _presence, it was getting every more difficult to believe that what he was doing made sense. Morality had never disturbed him…but he was starting to wonder if, perhaps, his sanity was at risk.

Sephiroth had been asleep for two days now, injured to the point where Hojo could not tell whether or not he was going to live. The boy had lost so much blood…

_I said I'd give him up to you…I did not know that it would be in this fashion…my love…_

Collapsing against a door, Hojo allowed his shoulders to shake as he wrenched at the screaming fragments of his mind, trying to force them back together. The corridor seemed to stretch out for an eternity. He could hear footsteps somewhere, or his beating heart, or the sound of ghosts running after him…afraid, Hojo opened the door, falling into the room in his haste.

He was welcomed by the overwhelming scent of green.

It was her conservatory. Hojo remembered giving it to her so that she might grow the rare plants that would not have survived otherwise. Nibelheim was not a friendly environment for the more tropical plants and his beautiful Lucrecia with her green thumbs, who took delight in encouraging the growth of over twenty species of roses, had not known how to sufficiently express her joy at this gift…

…_their naked bodies tangling 'midst the vines as she laughed…_

"_I'm going to bruise these plants if I'm not careful!"_

"_Bruise me then, pretty one…"_

…how he had loved her then, before _she _had come along and ripped out his heart.

A few of the plants still grew, now wild and choking in the small room. He had not thought that they would. Hojo tended to avoid the place and had not yet worked up the courage to clear the room out and transform it into a study.

_It's because I just don't have the time…_

Sephiroth was not even aware of this conservatory. He had never been told his mother's name. He had never known her…had never been held by her. Lucrecia was a beautiful dream, now shattered.

"Bitch!" The scream tore through the conservatory, unheard by all except the vines. "Why do you keep blaming me? Stop looking at me and go to hell, you whore!"

Leaves flew wildly beneath his fingertips as Hojo tore frantically at the sturdy plants, seeking to destroy any sign that Lucrecia had once existed…her plants, her memory, her son…

_You left me…you left me…but I left you first…_

Panting, the scientist realised his lunacy and fell back to the floor, shaking.

"You will stay, then? Stay and drive me mad, my love?"

_Please…I deserve it...listen to me now, in this lucid moment of sanity and protect our son…before I hurt him more…_

The only answer to meet this frantic prayer was the unsteady sound of Hojo's breathing. He wondered at himself for making such a request of a dead woman.

_Grab a hold on yourself, you fool…_

Hojo's eyes hardened again as the moment passed away in the silence. The plants remained mute, condemning him without words. Oblivious to their silent accusations, he made for the door.

He knew who could make him feel better…

…

…

_**Poor little boy…**_

The words jolted him from the foggy embrace of sleep. He knew that he had heard a voice.

"Gabrielle?" he whispered. The gorgeous woman who appeared in front of him then, was anyone but his grotesque…

…_beloved…_

…playmate. Tall, with faintly luminescent skin, silver-haired like him…

"Mother?"

She smiled. Beckoned to him with an elegant hand. He slid out of bed, noticing that his wounded, broken body remained behind. Rather than being disturbing, it was a strange relief to escape the pains of his physical form.

"Yes, it's a dream, my son," she whispered in answer to his unasked question, drawing him close to her and stroking his hair. "This is the only way for me to make contact with you at the moment…I am so sorry, my love."

"It's really you? Jenova?"

"You know my name then," the woman smiled, her eyes closed, embracing him. "Yes, Sephiroth. It is really me. You won't remember this when you wake up. I don't have such power as to make a lasting, conscious impression on you yet…but oh, my son…when you are older, we will talk."

Sephiroth remained silent, his plethora of questions suddenly irrelevant as his mother ran her long nails down his cheeks, over the tear stains, gently…a cat with sheathed claws.

"My wing…" he choked, feeling sudden horror as he looked at his physical shell. Jenova made comforting noises in her throat, dismissing his terror.

"What is a wing, little sparrow? You will acquire such power that it will seem like nothing, one day. I will return your wing to you when you have proven yourself to me, Sephiroth…and so much more…"

"And Gabby? Will you give her back her eyes?"

The hands against his cheeks suddenly tightened, painfully, before relaxing again. "I need you to forget her, Sephiroth. You can't hang on to your past…you can't have anyone but me. But I'm enough, aren't I?"

"Yes…" murmured the child, uncertainty evident in his voice. His mother sighed.

"It may seem a little cruel now, I know, but don't worry. Mommy will fix everything, you'll see."

…

…

Hojo wove his way through the basement tunnels, a gun in his hand, until he came to the locked door that his son had noticed some time ago. Resting a hand against the wood, Hojo wondered at the wisdom in this choice he was making now.

_I need to forget this pain…_

He slipped the key in the lock and turned it.

The room inside was choked with dust and riddled with coffins, a mausoleum of memories and a fitting tomb for its sole occupant who had, with Hojo's assistance, allowed himself to be imprisoned there many years ago. They had both dealt with their guilt in different ways.

The centre coffin's lid flew off as Hojo kicked at it, revealing the young man that lay resting. Hojo's breath caught in his throat at the sight.

_So beautiful…like poetry and moonlight…_

The man was pale, his delicate features and prominent cheekbones painfully evident in the shadows of the room. It was difficult to believe that he had lain there for eight years, his dark, shoulder-length hair the only sign of change. That and the fingers on his right hand, which were bloody from being gnawed at and used to scratch against his coffin.

"She betrayed you, didn't she?" drawled Hojo, smirking at the man below him. Valentine's eyes flew open at the sound of his voice, narrowing at the sight of the man that inspired so much hatred within him.

Hojo, Vincent mused, was a changed man. The dark circles beneath his eyes had become more prominent; his eyes more haunted. With his sadistic smile and sharp canines, he looked possibly more vampiric than the man in the coffin.

"Do the monsters sing at night?" Hojo whispered, his face twisting between malicious glee and terror.

"You should know," Vincent hissed. "What do you want of me, Hojo?"

"Do you dream of her? Do memories of her keep you sane?"

"Hojo, don't wake up the demons."

"Oh, Valentine, I wish you had been there when her son broke. Just like a pretty toy…he reminds me of her, you know."

"Hojo…"

"Of course, when Lucrecia died, there was so much more blood-"

Vincent lashed out with his clawed hand but Hojo was too swift; ducking Vincent's blow and smashing his gun into the other man's face with spiteful glee.

_Let me mar that beauty of yours, Valentine._

To his surprise, Vincent laughed, his voice metallic and raspy through lack of use.

"You can't hurt me anymore, Hojo," he said, smiling viciously with bloodied teeth. "You can't hurt me. You have everything…my Lucrecia, my freedom, my humanity, my sanity, my…my…"

"Yes, it's on that last point that I wished to address you," said Hojo, silkily. "I'm going to kill her."

Vincent didn't stop laughing. "Do it, you bastard. It would be a blessing. I wish to Gaia that you'd kill us all…Sephiroth, her, me…then turn the gun on your own fucking head an follow us like the dog you are. This place is cursed and we're all in hell. There's nothing that you can do. There's nothing…"

Hojo turned and left the other man to his hysterics, furious with the lack of response that he had received. He was being denied his relief.

So be it. He'd find it elsewhere.

…

…

Hands tore painfully at his shoulder, a touch so different from his Mother's. Sephiroth woke up to look at Hojo's sneering face.

"Good, you're awake. I think it's time you learnt a lesson."

The boy was dragged from his bed and through the corridors, his blanket tangled in his legs as he tripped and stumbled in confusion down the stairwell and through the basement.

They came to a door.

"Father, no," whimpered Sephiroth as Hojo unlocked it and shoved him in without speaking.

Gabrielle looked up from her usual corner, her tragic face contorting in fear as she heard Sephiroth's pleas.

"Don't hurt us, Father, I beg you!"

Hojo grabbed a fistful of Gabriella's fiery hair and slammed her head against a wall. Sephiroth groaned.

"I'm going to teach you to obey me, Sephiroth," said Hojo coolly, smiling at his son's stricken face. One day, the boy would learn not to react to his father's barbs as Valentine had, but not yet, not yet…

The click as Hojo cocked his gun echoed in the silence.

"This is what happens when you love somebody…they die, Sephiroth," murmured Hojo, almost incoherently, "and it's all your fault."

"Father, I'll obey you. I'll do anything, if you'll only spare Gabrielle," cried Sephiroth as his friend moaned in pain and horror.

"Watch carefully, Sephiroth," said Hojo.

The gunshot exploded through the room and through his screams, Sephiroth thought that he heard another being echoing his grief as, unbeknownst to him, Vincent Valentine laughed in between his tortured shrieks.

Blood blossomed into a delicate flower over Gabriella's stomach and she slumped without a sound, her white dress stained. Sephiroth flew to her, his hands against her wound, trying to stop the flow of blood.

Hojo hauled the boy to his feet. "Obey me next time, you bitch's whelp," he snapped, wincing at his words. "Tomorrow, you'll be leaving this house and this foolish child's corpse. You're going to Midgar, Sephiroth and if you refuse me, you'll go to hell."

He threw his son towards the exit and the boy fled towards his room, gasping in agony at the loss of his friend.

…

…

Vincent Valentine lay in the dark, his hands over his face, the claw tearing bloody stripes through his cheeks as he sobbed.

It was over now. She couldn't suffer anymore at his hands. He had failed his promise to her but then, he had broken so many that it really didn't matter any more.

_Fly up Angel…they're waiting for you…_

…

…

Gabriella's eyes fluttered open, to see Hojo tightening a bandage around the now stitched up hole in her upper torso, where her stomach had been removed years ago.

"L't m'die…" she whimpered breathlessly, inciting laughter.

"I told you I'd let you live, pretty one," the scientist said. "You're going to relive _his _fate…after all, it gave me such pleasure the first time."

"What are you doing?" Gabrielle forced herself to ask. Hojo laughed, even as unconscious tears streaked his cheeks.

"Why precious, I'm making you an Angel…"

…

…

Sephiroth choked in the dark, trying not to smell the dried blood on his hands. He cried out in the shadows…

…_Mother…_

…even as he prayed to any Angels that might be listening, begging them to stop the sun from ever rising over Nibelheim again.

_A/N Okay…that was not very cheerful. I apologise. Nevertheless, the plot is starting to move somewhere and I will blindly follow. I would so appreciate any reviews and criticisms! Until Chapter Five…_


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